


Mad Science

by lirulin



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Friendship, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:04:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3572372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirulin/pseuds/lirulin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian had not expected he'd become friends with a dwarven arcanist, or that he'd be doing foolhardy and ridiculous experiments at the crack of dawn, faffing about in the freezing cold, but here he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mad Science

If someone had told him, at any point before this month really, that he'd find himself eagerly waking in the dark just to scramble out of bed and dash to the coldest and windiest place he'd ever been, all to see the results of a magical experiment he'd set up with a dwarven arcanist? Well, once he'd stopped laughing and remembered how to breathe, he'd probably have had them committed. It was sheer and unadulterated _lunacy_ , and yet, here he was. The undercroft was several dozen degrees below intolerably frigid, the wind was whipping away with cheerfully vicious abandon, and he was all too certain he was going to lose one or both of his nipples to frostbite. Despite all of that, for some ridiculous reason, he couldn't seem to stop grinning.

"Come on, Sun, rise already," Dagna complained as she peered out at the distant mountain they'd decided to use as their timer. It wasn't as effective as, say, a tracking spell or pricey Orlesian clockwork, but stray magic would contaminate their samples and Orlesian clockwork was gaudy, even by Tevinter standards. As dawn approached, Dorian excitedly shifted his hands out from their cozy spots tucked into his armpits and rubbed them together vigorously. He could see his breath. If there was a God, he'd clearly been forsaken.

In the center of the undercroft, close enough to the edge of the proverbial (well, it was fairly literal) abyss that they could promptly chuck anything dangerous over the side, there was a large, pressure sealed, heavy crucible. It was taller than Dagna, which was not saying much, and came up to his hip. They'd spent weeks designing and planning this little venture into the unknown, giddy with the possibilities and giggling like lunatics as they strode the halls of Skyhold together. They hatched and schemed like absolute villains, whispering back and forth in gibberish and fractured sentences, and cackling whenever one or the other of them stumbled across something well and truly brilliant. Cullen had been against their conversing from the start but, by the time they'd begun constructing their pet project, even the Lady Montiliyet couldn't hide how their friendship disconcerted her.

Yes, they were friends, weren't they? 

It was strange, that, and the very fact that it was strange was very sad. Had he remained in Tevinter, or even in the library, he wouldn't have engaged with the dwarven arcanist. In fact, he'd held considerable contempt for her, just as all the other mages had and, honestly, still did. The very idea that she, a creature completely untethered from the Fade, could comprehend magics better than they? It was preposterous...until she'd demonstrated an academic understanding that put the cleverest members of the Magisterium to shame. He'd hardly believed it but Dagna, with her complete resistance to possession and outside influence, had tested and expanded her knowledge in ways he'd never have attempted. It was fascinating, her findings, and she'd chronicled them so well that he'd spent better than a week just catching her up.

It had been a rocky start, of course. The moment he'd taken interest he'd attempted to use his charm to smooth the path. Under even the most chaste flirtation, Dagna had folded up like a wet piece of parchment, reduced to furious blushing and stammering for hours. When he decided to forego his charm and simply engage her about her studies, though, she'd practically dove on him. If she could have, she'd have sunk in claws and latched on as she talked, endlessly, about her passion for magic. Frankly, he'd been utterly overwhelmed, she was an earnest, open book and wanted little else than to share her knowledge. She hadn't warmed to him, not exactly, her enthusiasm and friendliness began at full force, there was nowhere for them to go. But, oddly, she never expected him to do anything or provide any information in response, she was just ecstatic to engage.

"Oh-oh-oh! There it is!" Dagna shouted, pointing frantically at the mountain and the barest line of golden sunshine that had finally hit its peak. She was practically skipping as she dragged her stepladder to the crucible and took hold of the clamp on her side of the lid. Dorian braced himself against the cold and, as quickly as he could do it, he stretched out his arms and grabbed the clamp on his side.

"Alright, shall we release on one?" Dorian prompted, only shivering a little as he gripped the handle. Dagna nodded emphatically and he began the countdown at a conservative three. When it hit one, they both released the locks and the lid flew off the top of the heavy container. They hadn't really expected that, the lid weighed almost twice what Dorian did, but as such they weren't entirely disappointed to see it thrown free, either. It struck the roof with a truly prodigious bang, likely waking all of Skyhold in the process, but seeing as it fell away and down the mountainside, neither of them cared about the lost lid or the noise. 

The liquid inside the crucible glowed a brilliant and blinding white, it bubbled thickly and all the ice in the undercroft began melting with speed. The vat was filled with molten metal, super-heated Pyrophite to be specific. The amount of energy they'd had to siphon and force into that small space, just to reach the temperature necessary to liquefy it, had required both Solas and Vivienne's assistance. Neither were eager to help them in their shenanigans but the threat of Dagna and/or Dorian hounding their every step was too great for them to refuse. Dagna had wanted to do the test with super-heated Volcanic Aurum but, as there wasn't a metal that could withstand the heat and house molten Volcanic Aurum, they were forced to scale back their experiment.

It was disappointing but, really, when was compromise anything else?

"Go get the tongs," Dagna said and waved him away. 

Already the undercroft had warmed a solid fifteen degrees. It was startling, but not unwelcome, and Dorian dashed to the benches to retrieve the tongs. The other complication with Volcanic Aurum had been the lack of ability to fish anything out of it due, once again, to the lack of anything that could withstand that severe a temperature. "Ooooh I hope it worked," Dagna called and pulled on her tinted goggles.

"It had better, this waking at the crest of dawn nonsense is beyond the pale," Dorian called back, as he jogged back to the crucible with a long pair of heavy, specially enchanted tongs. He passed the handles to the dwarf and, as she took them, tied on his own goggles.

The tongs hissed violently as they touched the surface of the rapidly cooling metal, but nothing untoward happened. Dorian would have liked to cast a barrier, just for safety's sake, but they'd already calculated the risk involved in that much stray mana just _faffing_ about. Dagna bent forward, tongs fishing through the vivid pool of light, and was forced to pass the tongs back to Dorian or risk losing her balance. He took them graciously and had to lean worryingly close to the crucible before he found what they were seeking. He was overheating already and a flush had settled across Dagna's cheeks. It was a good forty degrees hotter than when they'd began. Still, discomfort aside, Dorian didn't hesitate to laugh smugly as he lifted their project from its molten grave.

He worked slowly and with excruciatingly careful movements. All the while, Dagna stared at the surface of the metal with baited breath. When the tongs finally broke the surface, it was a wonder that one or both of them wasn't _a'quiver_ with sheer anticipation. The metal sluiced off in thick, rapidly darkening drops, but once it had cleared it was all the two could do not to literally leap for joy. The exhilaration, the thrill of it, how had he ever found this part of magical theory boring?

Carefully, the two moved away from the crucible and to the table by the stairs. All of the ice had melted and, even a good distance off, it felt like noon on a mid-summer's day. Dorian was reasonably certain he'd lightly burned a good portion of his arms, simply via proximity, but such was the cost of discovery. When he set their project on the table, free from the searing hot tongs, they both exhaled in relief.

"This, my good arcanist, is truly a _masterwork_ , a legacy, a magnum opus," Dorian praised as he stepped back and all but threw the tongs down to the lower level. They sizzled audibly against the warming stone. 

"I couldn't have done it without you, Master Pavuus," Dagna announced with an affected lilt of haughtiness. He had no doubt she was mocking him, in her way. Delightful. She held out a hand and, without pause, Dorian clutched it and shook, as colleagues were wont to.

"What in Andraste's ass is going on down here?" The door to the stairs was thrown open with a panicked, angry urgency. The tail-end of that question, frantic and furious, resounded through the room. The Inquisitor had, quite clearly, intended to charge in, advisers and onlookers in tow, but the lot of them recoiled as the wave of heat hit them and poured up the stairs. When they finally piled out of the stairwell, confused and harried, into the undercroft they were twice as worried and entirely furious. More than a few of them were still clad in their nightclothes. The sight of Dagna and Dorian, slightly redder than usual, wearing absurd, tinted goggles and shaking hands, did very little to calm their ire.

"Are you two out of your minds?" Cullen snapped, sleep still clinging to his ruggedly handsome features. Bedhead, Dorian decided, was a rather good look on the man. "Was _this_ what you were doing?" He motioned sharply to the vat of molten metal, aghast that the thing had the gall to exist in his presence, or something like that, and Dorian and Dagna's smiles became positively wicked. All at once, Cullen seemed to regret not bringing a weapon or a shield as he charged down to their domain...in his pajamas. 

To their credit, while Solas and Vivienne had come along to berate them (or watch them be summarily flogged by the warriors), both the mages had already spotted the prize of their little experiment. Their achievement sat proudly on the table behind them and Dorian could almost see the thoughts grinding away in both the mages' heads as they put it all together. Dagna was less smug about their accomplishment and took the angry mob for an interested crowd, instead. She clapped her hands excitedly and then moved aside to reveal the table in all its boring, metal glory. Perched in the center of it, looking as fine and pompous as Dorian at his best, was a delicate, ornamental swan. The mages were utterly fascinated, but it was hardly a surprise that they'd caught on faster than anyone else. Unfortunately, the grand reveal didn't seem to have as much effect on the crowd as Dagna had hoped. 

Her crestfallen little slouch made him irrationally annoyed with the gawking remainder.

"What the hell does a decorative chunk of ice have to do with shaking apart and, apparently, setting fire to Skyhold?" The Inquisitor sounded far, far less than impressed and Dorian couldn't restrain the put upon pout that crossed his features. He took off his goggles, gave a roguish toss of his hair to ensure it looked properly dashing, and then motioned to the ice sculpture on the table with a truly patronizing lack of remorse.

"Why, do try to contain your enthusiasm, Inquisitor," Dorian drawled flatly and, with a flick of his finger, knocked the sculpture over onto the table. The delicate thing broke, as such items did when jostled slightly, but the swan didn't actually matter in the long run. Now, with the base of the trinket exposed, Dorian gestured, grandly, to the table. "If you would like to applaud, you are welcome to. We do not accept flowers and will absolutely not be signing anything."

Surprisingly, it was Cullen who caught on first. It was obvious when he’d figured it out because Cullen, quite frankly, lacked anything resembling tact. When the ex-templar finally put two and two together, he recoiled so hard he nearly struck Solas in the face with the back of his head. The Inquisitor figured it out, next, and approached the project with a much more appropriate level of wonder and awe. They picked it up, bare-handed, (Something neither Dorian nor Dagna would have deemed wise, but seeing as nobody lost any fingers to stray mana it was really a win, when it came down to it.) and turned it over to peer at the inscriptions. The remaining ice tumbled from the rune and, upon separating from the surface, melted instantly. The heat in the undercroft was becoming truly stifling and had, without a doubt, surpassed the hottest day the Western Approach had to offer.

"You made a fire resistance rune," the Inquisitor announced almost dreamily. Somewhere in the back, Sera sounded off.

"Woke me up for that shite? We fuckin' got loads a' those, yeah? Damned mages--" She trailed off, her complaining punctuated by stomping as she ascended the stairs to the main hall. Apart from her, everyone else seemed to get the gist of this, but Dorian felt like savoring this success. That meant, of course, that he had to drag Dagna along savoring with him--or gloating, whatever they were calling it in this part of Thedas. He cheerfully and promptly clapped Dagna on the shoulder.

"Why, between the two of us, I'd be startled if we couldn’t cure the Blight. For now, however, our combined genius and ingenuity has yielded a rune that can save ice from heat enough to render....oh...."

"About seventy five percent, I'd say," Dagna chimed in. "Yeah, about seventy five percent of all the ground in Thedas would melt at that temperature. And it’s stable for a minimum of twenty four full hours of submerged exposure!"

Her delight was positively contagious. The fact that Vivienne was trying her hardest to look disaffected, _and failing_ , was just icing.

"It's something like ten times the heat a high dragon can generate, but that's all just academic, right my friend?" Dorian turned his attention to the dwarf and, either she'd burned her face staring into the crucible or she was blushing. It was rather tricky to tell. "Now, if you'll all excuse us, we've basked in our own brilliance for several hours now. We're positively exhausted by our own wonderment."

Dorian ushered Dagna forward and, while she made a little peep of surprise, she went along with him willingly. His strides were, perhaps, overly dramatic but gradual enough for her to keep time. 

"We're going to break for a meal and some light celebration. Perhaps even some debauchery if we feel up to it. So I bid you all: Good day!"

Dorian casually led Dagna through the small mob and, despite their irritation, the lot of them wanted to see the rune they'd crafted far more than they wanted to berate the pair. So, surprisingly, they left the undercroft with relative ease. Indeed, after they'd had a sickeningly sweet breakfast as reward, all flat cakes and sugary syrups, they found that most of Skyhold was reluctant to be angry with them. They had truly awoken the _entire fortress_ , but the heat from the undercroft was significant enough that the stone across the whole of Skyhold became warm to the touch. It made a cold winter day far less insufferable and, combined with their achievement, earned them either polite accolade or grudging respect. Even Solas failed to be cranky when they passed through his rotunda, an event Dagna thought impossible.

He'd probably laughed at that for too long, honestly, but since they already looked quite mad and disheveled there was no reason to refrain.


End file.
